What If...
by The Phantom
Summary: West Side Story fic. Distraught and angry at all that has happened, Action is given one wish, one chance to change everything... Please R&R! Based on the film, as I have not seen the stage production.


Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, except the girl. I do not own 'West Side Story', or I would not be here. I would be living in Los Angeles and counting my yachts. If you sue me, all you will get is a piggy bank half-full of quarters, a case of Diet Dr. Pepper, and a pair of glasses, which I need in order to see. Don't sue.

Author's Note: See the end of the story once you've finished reading for my thoughts on this piece. This fic is based on the film version of 'West Side Story' as I have never seen the stage performance. Darn. Also, Russ Tamblyn was such a great Riff! 

What If….

            Rain slicked the streets, creating hazards for cars and people. Its' sheets poured down unmercifully, drenching anyone out in it. And being nighttime, the effects of the freezing precipitation were doubled. But one person was oblivious to the chill, oblivious to the impending sickness that it promised.

            Action wandered the streets miserably, doing a little soul-searching. His mind was a wreck, torn to pieces by the events of the last couple of days. In the rain, his clothes clung to his short body, and his dark hair lay slick and damp on his head. Shivers ran through him occasionally in reaction to the cold, but he ignored them. 

            Eventually, his feet led him to the playground. The high chain link fences stood formidably in the darkness, surrounding him. He looked around, as if just realizing where he was. He had come here unconsciously, this place having always been an important place in his life. And for his gang. 

            The Jets. They'd been ripped asunder by the last couple of days, their juvenile bonds being stretched to the limits. Before the Rumble, they'd been strong and close, ruling the streets with cool confidence. Of course, they'd had a cool, confident leader. 

            Riff was dead now, and with him had died their strength. He had been their pillar of intensity, their leader. He'd been killed at the Rumble, run through by Bernardo's blade. Of course, it was going to be a simple fistfight, until Tony interrupted…

            Tony. Balling his hands into fists, Action slammed them against the fence. This was all his fault. If he had just stayed out of it, things would've been fine. They would've slugged it out, and the Sharks would've had to leave for good. But no… Tony stuck his head in where he didn't belong. He'd quit so long back… About a year. He'd just stuck around till a month ago. Now he screwed everything up. 

            He'd killed Riff. If Tony had stayed out, knives wouldn't have gotten involved. Ice and Bernardo would have fought, the end. They're gone. But now… Riff and Bernardo were dead. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

            "Tony!" Action howled, the wind drowning his words.

            Tony… Maria. He'd been doing it for her. Damn P.R. girl. Action hated her, hated her for ruining everything. All her fault. Everyone's fault. Why…

            He fell to his knees, the rain mingling with his tears and hiding them.

            "Oh God, Riff…" he sobbed brokenly. "What'll I do without you…?"

            Action had been very close to the Jet leader, particularly after Tony packed up for good. They'd been partners in crime, making daring runs into P.R. territory with their paint for graffiti, setting elaborate traps involving rotten eggs for Bernardo… How could he go on alone, facing the aftermath of his best friends' untimely death? 

            "I wish I could change everything…" he breathed, very softly at first. "I wish I could change everything!" he yelled.

            Completely at a loss, he let his head drop forward and his arms hang limp at his sides. A touch on the back of his neck nearly scared him out of his skin. He jerked forward, and then spun around defensively.

            A girl stood behind him, about the same age as himself, also drenched by the rain. Her long dark hair came down to her waist, slick and straight from the water. 

            "I'm sorry, Action." She said quietly.

            He nodded miserably. It wasn't a shock that she knew him, he was a Jet for crying out loud. And it was common knowledge that Riff was dead, him being one of the biggest legends in the West Side.

            "I'm sorry your friend had to die." She continued.

            "He didn't have to die." Action growled. "It was Tony's fault. Tony and Maria's fault."

            She raised her eyebrows mildly, but said nothing.

            "I wish none of this had happened." He went on. "I wish… I wish Tony had never met Maria. None of these ideas would've come into his head… we'd all be fine."

            "You really mean that wish?" she asked gently.

            Action nodded fiercely. And then it happened.

            It started with the rain. The droplets seemed to be falling in slow motion, striking the pavement with loud splashes. Everything was getting slower, and blurring together. But the girl remained clear, looking at him with some sort of sad smile. Her lips didn't move, but Action heard her in his mind.

            "See if you like it…"

            ~

            "Gee, Officer Krupke, Krup you!"

            Action blinked, looking around. He was outside of Doc's store, and it was late at night. No rain. He blinked again. There were the Jets, all around him. But they were laughing and smiling, like everything was okay. Then, he knew.

            There was Riff, laughing and helping Tiger to his feet after knocking him down playfully. Riff was fine, in one piece, still alive and standing there. Action ran to him.

            "Riff!" he cried.

            "What?" Riff smiled, looking a little confused.

            Suddenly, Action knew where he was. It was the night of the War Council. They were waiting for the Sharks to arrive. He thought of the girl, and realized that she must have done this. Or maybe he was dreaming…?

            They went into the shop as a group, still waiting for the enemy. When Bernardo finally appeared at the door, Action bristled inside. But no, he reminded himself, the Shark hadn't done anything yet. 

            As the two gang leaders discussed the terms and place, Action noticed Tony behind the counter. But instead of being psychotically happy and chipper, he just looked like this was a normal happenstance. Then came the crucial moment.

            "Rocks." Bernardo suggested a weapon.

            "Belts." Riff countered.

            "Pipes."

            "Cans."

            "Bricks!"

            "Bats!"

            "Clubs!"

            "Chains!"

            Action looked apprehensively at Tony. But the boy stayed quietly behind the counter, albeit looking very sad. He did not interrupt. It dawned on Action…

            _He never met Maria. My wish came true._

            A slight grin cracked across his face. Hastily, he turned his attention back to his gang, to his leader.

            "Chains sound alright to me." Bernardo said, and his lieutenant nodded.

            And they shook on it. All out, once and for all. The first gang to be driven away, lost. No stupid fistfights. A real rumble.

            ~

            Action fell back into this time easily. This was the time when he knew who he was. He wasn't lost and stumbling. He was brave and sure-footed, backed up by his buddy-boys. And Riff was leading them, ready to kick the Sharks clear across the West Side. And this time, Action would make sure everyone came out okay.

            It was late into the evening, the sun just dipping below the horizon. The Jets were gearing for war, preparing for this ultimate rumble. Riff was swinging his chain in the air, as if testing it for strength. Baby John was looking at his chain nervously, like it might bite him. Ice looked cool and clear and concentrated, holding his chain at his side. Action himself was wrapping his chain around his hand, and then unwrapping it. He was scared, scared that Riff would die anyway. But there was no turning back…

            ~

            They stood, Jets on one side and Sharks on the other, deathly still. No one moved a muscle. But then, as if reading each other's minds, Riff and Bernardo stepped forward. The Shark leader snapped his chain taut between his hands, while the other boy swung his over his head. Suddenly, they charged each other, howling war cries. It began…

            The gangs collided, swinging and punching and lashing with their weapons. Action waded in, seeking out Pepe, the lieutenant. They found each other and fought. 

            Out of the corner of his eye, Action watched the others. Baby John was hopelessly fighting Chino, blindly swinging his chain with all his might. A-Rab was running rings around the slow Jose, darting in and striking his back. Ice was holding his own against two of them, while Tiger showed how he got his Jet-name. And in the middle, Riff and Bernardo attacked each other with a madness and fury that was frightening to see. 

            Winding his chain around his hand, Action delivered a sharp blow to Pepe's midsection, stunning him. Springing away, he dashed over to assist Baby John. While locked with Chino face-to-face, Action glanced over and saw something that made his blood run cold.

            Having tackled each other, the two leaders had grappled on the ground. But now, Bernardo securely straddled his enemy's back, the chain looped around Riff's neck. He was strangling him, blinded by his rage. 

            "No!" Action yelled.

            He lashed out at Chino, startling him and knocking him away. He could see Riff's desperate struggle slowing down, getting sluggish, as his eyes rolled back in their sockets. Finally, Action clobbered his opponent to the ground.

            Racing over to Bernardo, he unconsciously reached into his own back pocket and found the knife hidden there. Whipping it out, he rammed it into the Shark's side. Crying out once in agony, Bernardo went limp. He was dead. 

            Action rolled him off of Riff, who was lying face down and looking pretty dead. He turned him over on his back. He didn't seem to be breathing.

            "Damn it!" Action swore, slapping Riff across the face.

            That worked. Riff gasped to life, his bloodshot eyes popping open. His hands sprang for his neck, making sure the chain was gone. Turning his head, he saw Bernardo's lifeless body and crawled over to check his pulse. None. He looked at Action and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a wail from Chino.

            "Bernardo!"

            This cry arrested the attention of all the Sharks, and their eyes flew to the sight of Riff kneeling over the dead body of their leader. In one movement, they engulfed Riff and Action in their fury. It would have been death for both of them right there, but a familiar sound shattered the air.

            Sirens. On cue, albeit regretfully, everyone scattered away, running for cover. A bell tolled solemnly, pronouncing a death knell. Bernardo lay silent.

            ~

            The warehouse where they met was pandemonium.

            "I can't believe it…" Baby John was saying.

            "What went wrong?" Ice demanded.

            "Who killed Bernardo?" A-Rab wondered.

            "Where's Riff?" Tiger said.

            At that question, Action was snapped from his reverie. Jumping up from his corner, he looked around. Riff was not there. He was about to shout something when the door banged open and the Jet leader came darting in.

            Breathing heavily, his neck laced with ugly bruises, he looked tired and worn. But his eyes burned with a fire. He went right over to Action.

            "What were you thinking?!?" he hissed. "You _killed_ Bernardo!"

            "He was killing you…" Action started to stammer an excuse. He hadn't expected Riff to get so angry…

            "So why didn't ya give him a shove or something? Why'd you bring a knife into it? Huh? No one was supposed to die tonight, Action."

            Action slunk away miserably. It was his fault, he realized. But then he reminded himself: angry or not, Riff had survived the Rumble. This thought cheered him greatly.

            The Jets decided to stay cool if the police questioned them, and to avoid the Sharks for the time being. Gliding silently out into the night, they moved down the street.

            ~

            It was Anybodys who reported the bad news. Just like before, Action reflected. She came running breathlessly up to Riff, spilling the beans. The Sharks were out hunting. They were prowling the West Side, looking for Bernardo's murderer. Riff nodded grimly and put a protective hand on Action's shoulder.

            "Not while I'm around." He said, and Action felt safe. 

            "Not Action." Anybodys whimpered. "Riff, they're looking for you."

            Action felt his heart stop in his chest. Riff frowned.

            "Me?"

            Anybodys nodded sadly.

            "Chino and Jose, and Pepe I think, all swear they saw you do it with your own knife. They're out for blood."

            At this Action staggered back and leaned against the wall. Riff looked concerned, but then grinned shakily.

            "They'll have to catch me first." He said confidently.

            "Yeah." A-Rab put forward. "And they ain't gonna find him."

            There were murmurs of agreement from all the Jets. If it was Riff they wanted, they'd be hard-pressed to get him.

            ~

            Riff spent the next couple of days hiding out at Ice's apartment. It went pretty well, with the Jets avoiding the angry Sharks. But it was getting harder and harder. The Sharks were now brazenly storming Jet territory, hell-bent on claiming a life in return for Bernardo's. Action was confident that everything would turn out all right.

            But then they found Baby John. Beaten and bruised, he was lying in a back alley when Snowboy found him. Sniffling and trying not to cry, the youngest Jet managed to stammer out that the Sharks were now ready to do anything and everything to get Riff out in the open. They were ready to start picking off the other Jets. They told Baby John to tell Riff that he couldn't hide forever, and he certainly couldn't hide his whole gang. The young Jet leader was despondent. He went off to the warehouse to brood, and Action followed him.

            ~

            Riff stood motionless at the window for a long time, staring bleakly at the docks. Action was silent and respectful, standing about ten feet behind him. At last, Riff spoke.

            "This wasn't supposed to happen, Action." He said softly.

            "I know." Action replied, feeling very guilty. 

            Riff sighed deeply, sounded tortured. He was bearing far too much for a boy his age, too many decisions that he had to make. He was not a grown man, he was not ready for this kind of responsibility. In this position and in this situation, he was responsible for all the Jets and their well-being. Action could visibly see that it was wearing him down. 

            "I'm sorry, Riff." He said quietly, unable to think of anything else.

            "Huh." was the only response. 

            They stood that way, frozen like statues, for an hour. Finally, Riff turned and started for the exit.

            "Where are you going?" Action asked.

            "Tony's."

            ~

            Action spied on them, feeling guiltier by the moment. He crouched on the fire escape, peering in through the sheer curtains. He saw Riff stumble to Tony and embrace him, and Tony hugging back with a fierceness that shocked him. And then he saw something he'd never seen before and would never see again.

            Riff was crying.

            "Tony… I don't know what to do… This wasn't supposed to happen…"

             And Tony shushed him and led him over to a seat, setting him down and then sitting opposite him. Regaining a little of his composure, Riff told Tony everything. When he finished, he starting crying again. Action's mouth dropped open. Riff was really torn up inside, aching and confused.

            Tony hurried over and sat next to his friend, embracing him again, almost cradling him. Riff was absolutely beside himself. He was babbling on and on, not just about the Jets now but everything. His parents, now dead, his uncle whom he'd run away from, his constant fear of failing everyone… Literally, Riff was having a mental breakdown. 

            Action was horrified. This wasn't supposed to happen. He watched in dumb silence as Riff pulled away, his face still streaked with tears but now a mask of determination.

            "I have to take responsibility for Action. I can't let him down."

            "Riff…" Tony began, but fell silent.

            "Goodbye Tony." Riff said softly.

            "Goodbye, Riff." Tony answered.

            The Jet leader staggered out the door. And then Tony wept.

            ~

            Action bolted down the fire escape, watching Riff jog down the street. Desperately, he poured on the speed, trying to catch up. But as Riff turned a corner far ahead, he knew it was too late. He heard Spanish yelling and cursing. As Action spun around and saw, a chill went straight to his bones.

            Depressed, Riff had run right into the Shark hunting party. Now they held him fast while Pepe moved in for the kill, his knife gleaming. Riff looked determined and calm, not flinching or struggling. And as Pepe plunged the knife into his chest, he seemed to smile for a brief moment before his eyes rolled back and he went limp. He was dead. 

            Action was about to scream when suddenly a burst of movement exploded around the corner. Snowboy plunged into the Sharks, slashing with his knife. Chino fell with a cry, landing next to Riff. Moments later, Snowboy fell too. Turning in horror, Action fled.

            ~

            As he watched silently, stricken dumb, Ice assembled the gang and prepared to strike back. All Action could think was _No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen…_

            Baby John, Pepe, and Jose were killed. A-Rab slid into depression. Ice committed suicide with his father's gun. It all passed in a nightmarish blur, driving Action to the brink…

            ~

            He ran down the street, to the playground, as fast as he could go. Once he reached there, he threw himself on his knees and sobbed. This wasn't supposed to happen. Where was the cool, confident world he'd imagined? Why weren't they ruling the streets like they should have been? Without Tony's interference, they should have been fine. Happy. Safe. But no. Riff had a breakdown and was killed. Snowboy, Baby John, Ice, all dead. A-Rab's cheerful demeanor wiped away and left blank and depressed. All wrong. 

            "I'm sorry!" Action screamed at the sky.

            He longed for the peaceful world he'd left behind. The world… the world that Tony and Maria had created. Where they had been taught peace, and reconciled their differences. Riff was dead, but at peace. It was how things were supposed to be.

            "Oh, I wish everything would go back to normal…" Action moaned. "I was wrong… so wrong… I wish I could go back…"

            ~

            The rain woke him from his thoughts. Rain. His eyes flew open. There he was, back in the playground, safe. Back in the world where everything was right. And standing next to him, the girl. She gave him that sad smile again.

            "Do you understand, now?" She asked softly.

            Action took several deep breaths, looking around. 

            "Yes…" he said slowly. "I understand…"

            And he wept. Gently, she placed her hand on his head. When he finally stopped he looked at her.

            "Thank you." He said sincerely. "Whoever you are."

            Somehow, he didn't seem to care what she was. He didn't need an explanation. He had been shown, and he knew. 

            "There's a plan for everyone." She said. "You cannot grieve forever. His plan has been completed. You need to accept that."

            "I do." He said earnestly.

            She nodded.

            "Then my job is finished."

            She turned and began to walk away, disappearing into the rain. Action stood, feeling a new sense of strength within. But then he paused.

            "Wait!" he called after her. "Why did you come to me?"

            Slowly, she tuned back to face him. Her beautiful face seemed to glow faintly. Looking upward, she smiled, a real and pure smile.

            "Riff sent me."

            And then she was gone.

            ~ The End

            Author's Notes: My second 'WSS' fic! Riff's past was based on his line "'Cause I can't stand livin' with my buggin' uncle." Hope you enjoyed my work! Please review. Constructive criticism always welcomed. Flames are used to heat my frosty toes, as my sock has a hole in it. Thanks for reading!


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